


I Belong With You

by DarylDixonGrimes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, M/M, and sleep deprivation, bottom!daryl, hallucinations brought on by hunger, taggity tags, top!rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10098554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylDixonGrimes/pseuds/DarylDixonGrimes
Summary: Daryl finds some comfort during his time in captivity.





	

Daryl’s naked on the floor of his cell when Rick comes to him. The world around them is dark and blissfully quiet, a rare reprieve from the aural assault he’s been getting since he arrived at Negan's compound.

“You’re trembling,” Rick drawls. Daryl looks at his hands in the tiny sliver of light coming from beneath the cell door and watches his fingers vibrate.

“Mm,” he grunts in response. The shakes run deep, permeating muscle and flesh and settling into his bones. Whether they come from the gnawing, painful emptiness in his stomach or the cold of the cement pressed against his bare back, he’s not sure. Questions like how and why stopped mattering years ago.

Rick trails a hand down his torso. Daryl shakes more.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows the other man isn’t really there. But that place is covered over with a haze of near-starvation and pure exhaustion. His ability to think and reason is long-gone, covered over by clouds formed of base instinct and need.

He can’t feed himself. He can’t find water to soften the sandpaper in his mouth and sooth his chapped lips. The ghost of Rick Grimes will have to do.

“I miss you,” Rick says, sliding his hand lower. Fingers wrap around Daryl’s cock and stroke gently.

“Love you,” Daryl says, the words grating their way out of his throat like scrap metal. “So much,” he whispers. Every syllable sounds pitiful, the last whimpers of a dying animal trying to hold on for just a little while longer.

“Let me make this better,” Rick says. And Daryl doesn’t argue. Instead he closes his eyes, sighing quietly when the warm heat of Rick’s mouth finds its way onto his cock. Soft, wet lips drag their way up, slowly traveling from base to tip to base again.

“Is this helping?” Rick asks, and Daryl doesn’t think to question the fact that Rick can somehow speak even with his lips wrapped tightly around his own erection.

“You always help,” Daryl says, hearing the words even though he doesn’t feel his own mouth move. And it’s true. As much as he loves the rest of his family and as much as he’d willingly die for most of them, it’s Rick who keeps him from throwing in the towel, from leaving and wandering and waiting to die.

Moaning softly, Daryl twines his fingers into his leader’s curls, focusing on the texture of dark strands sliding through his digits instead of the feeling of cold cement. Rick hums quietly around him and bobs up his length again.

“I’m sorry you’re here,” Rick says, his fingers softly ghosting over Daryl’s hole. “You belong with us.”

“Belong with you,” Daryl says, willing Rick to penetrate him. Fingers find their way inside of him instantly, meeting none of the resistance they should. He doesn’t question that either, wouldn’t want to even if he could.

All that matters is Rick. Surrounding him. Inside of him.

“Everything,” Daryl whispers.

“Am I?” Rick asks.

“To me,” he says. And he begs for Rick without saying anything. A worn leather holster falls to the floor beside him. The metal of a belt buckle tinkles quietly.

The weight on top of him almost makes him forget he’s trembling. Rick’s mouth is hot against his neck and Daryl writhes, feeling the denim of the other man’s jeans rub against his bare legs.

“We’re coming for you,” Rick says, mouthing his ear. “You gotta know that.”

“Please.”

Rick’s inside of him before the word dies on his lips, rocking himself deeper and deeper into Daryl's body. It’s almost enough to sate the hunger Daryl feels, almost enough to make him forget his thirst and his pain and his fear.

Almost.

Lips pressed against Daryl’s pulse, Rick pushes deeper still, burrowing past reality to merge with the hunter in a way that they never could anywhere but this space, this other world where real and unreal bleed into one another like ink.

Music blares from somewhere in the corner of that reality, all crass drum beats and street names. But Rick’s breath panting in ecstasy is louder.

Daryl grips him tight, rocking his shaking form onto his lover. There is no limit to how far inside of him this Rick can be, to how tight he can hold him, to how many times he can whisper that he loves him, that he won't stop until he's safe once more. 

“Come,” Rick says. And the word holds more meanings than there are stars in the sky. Come home. Come home to me. Come home to us.

_Cum for me._

Daryl feels the muscles of Rick’s back undulate under his hands with every thrust, and he shudders. 

“No,” he begs, because he doesn’t want it to end. “No, no, no.” Teeth find painfully chapped lips and clamp down. He forces his release back as long as he can. But it’s futile there beneath the man he loves with every inch of his immeasurable soul.

“Come,” Rick says again, his tongue raking up the side of Daryl’s ear. And it feels more like an inevitable fact than a request or even an order.

“Rick.” Daryl whimpers his name when it hits, his cock twitching against exposed stomach and soft cotton. And it feels like he cums for every single second of eternity, painting the space between him and Rick with desire and hope and love so consuming that it aches in his chest.

Rick grunts his name back, releasing deep inside of the other man, filling him again and again. And somewhere else Daryl can feel it seeping out around Rick’s cock and dribbling slowly to the floor beneath them.

Somewhere Daryl is safe and warm and loved.

“Please stay,” he says, when it’s finally over and every bit of Rick’s release has dribbled out of him and pooled beneath his naked body. When Rick is dressed again, his holster belt slung across his hips in a way that makes Daryl feel protected.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rick promises, sliding onto the floor beside him and pressing lips against his sweaty temple. “Not until we find you. Not until you’re back with us.”

“With you,” Daryl says, curling his shaking body up against the other man’s. He can almost smell him. He breathes in salt and musk and hope.

Somewhere the song starts over and Daryl can hear himself growl at it, can feel the sound vibrating his chest in the cool air of his personal prison.

But Rick’s reassurances are louder. Daryl settles his head onto the warmth of the other man’s chest and sleeps.


End file.
